just a little off
by falling winter roses
Summary: horcrux hunt / ashamed to have this on my profile / even crappier oneshot / qlfc


_**reserving chaser two, qlfc forum, puddlemere united**_

_**season seven, round eight**_

_**main prompt:**_

**Three of Wands —**

**Reversed: Obstacles, Delays, Frustration**

_**optional prompts:**_

**2\. (quote) "Any bright ideas now, fearless leader?" — Umbrella Academy: Vol. 1**

**6\. (word) Concrete**

**12\. (quote) "That is such a bizarre request I have to agree to it." — The Princess Bride, William Goldman**

**word count: 1000**

**.**

The hunt for the Horcruxes was filled with a great, great, _great_ deal of frustration. Around every corner was another obstacle, another delay…

And there wasn't any _food._

Ron knew he shouldn't be complaining. Harry and Hermione were trying their best, and here _he _was, lazing about.

He told himself that it was just the Horcrux talking, and he let himself get worse and worse.

_Harry and Hermione_ were trying their best…

The Horcrux was taking over him, with the thoughts and fears of Harry and Hermione kissing, joining, being the couple that he'd feared for so long.

Harry… Harry was the Chosen One. He could have any girl he wanted, and here they were, all close together. Ron was no one. He couldn't do anything. Nothing at all. Why would Hermione want him? He was just some ginger, freckled tagalong that couldn't do anything but complain as he ate all the food that Harry and Hermione painstakingly made.

Even though there'd never been a concrete reason for Ron to suspect them being something behind his back, seeing as Harry and Ginny had been a thing previously (Ron was still a little mad about that), it still stung to see them working on something together. He knew he could join in, but he would only be proving to everyone how useless he was when he couldn't come up with anything.

He tried to push these thoughts away as simply symptoms of the Horcrux affecting him, but the thing about Horcruxes was that they take one's own thoughts and turn them against them.

And that was exactly what the Horcrux was doing to Ron Weasley before he left.

* * *

It was raining that fateful night. Raining, cold and hard, raining drops of anger and envy and absolute, utter frustration. Ron hid his real fears and thoughts behind an anger that they were getting nothing done. Which, then again, wasn't a lie. Because honestly?

They _weren't_ getting anything done.

He hadn't planned to leave that night. He hadn't planned to get so angry and just plain _leave._

But Harry's remarks hit home. And so his anger rose, and rose, and rose. The Horcrux didn't help anything, either. Not even Hermione could stop that flame of blinding anger. Hell, she even made it _grow._

But when he left, he almost turned back. He almost turned back for _her._

But he was too proud to do so, even as Hermione cried his name through those endless sheets of rain.

* * *

It's no wonder Ron left, Harry thought.

He was still mad, though. Of course he was. Ron had left so suddenly, so horribly, not even listening to Hermione as she screamed for him to come back. It made Harry almost… well, _hate_ his best friend.

But still… they had to keep going. They had no other options. If they were to go back, Voldemort would kill them. And Harry would rather have a fighting chance than die without resistance.

He was a Potter, after all.

* * *

Life at Shell Cottage was harder than Ron had previously thought. Why?

Because it was life without his friends. It was life where he was filled with utter guilt that he'd _left _his friends, life where he had nothing to do but think about how horrible Hermione must feel. But he couldn't go back. They're gone, long gone. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't get back.

All he had was the radio channel of _Potterwatch_ and the Deluminator that he clicked so often.

* * *

"Another dead end," Harry growled to himself as he stalked outside, away from an equally frustrated Hermione.

There was no end to this. This was _idiocy._ This was _stupidity._

This was utter, raving, blinding madness.

Of the anger kind, yes, but also the insane kind. Harry almost wanted to take off and leave. It didn't help that it was his turn to wear the Horcrux. And he'd been wearing it more than Hermione, too, because it seemed that every time Hermione wore it she got even more grief stricken over the disappearance bloody git that was Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Well, not _quite _a disappearance.

* * *

They finally gave up and went to the Hollow. Because honestly? There'd been nothing else for them to do.

In hindsight, _that_ had certainly not been one of their brighter decisions. That trip had gotten them nothing.

Well, except for a broken wand.

_Harry's_ broken wand.

And that broken wand? It came with horribly broken spirits.

Harry was sitting on his bed, staring at the remnants of his trusty wand with a sad smile.

This wand had been his last true weapon against Voldemort. And now…

Well, now, what exactly where they going to do?

They didn't have any leads, and they had no way to destroy the only Horcrux they'd gotten so far.

And Ron… Ron was gone. Harry and Hermione's spirits still hadn't truly risen from that horrible punch in that face.

"Any bright ideas now, fearless leader?" Harry said to himself.

"No, not really," came Hermione's voice.

"Oh. Hermione."

"Yes, it's Hermione."

Hermione sat down beside Harry, the bed creaking as she did so, and they were quiet.

"Can we just maybe talk about something?"

"Well, now, _that_ is such a bizarre request I have to agree to it," Harry sighed.

"Oh, shush," Hermione said, a note of frustration in her voice.

"What? I'm only telling the truth." And indeed he was. The two hadn't spoken for days.

Hermione was silent.

Harry immediately felt horrible.

He shouldn't be pushing her away. Hermione must feel bad enough about what had happened. He shouldn't be making it worse.

They were a team now. They'd _always_ been a team.

"Okay, well… what do you want to talk about?" Harry said, trying to make peace between them.

"I just… oh. I don't know. It's nothing." She paused for a moment before sighing. "You know what? I'm tired. I'm just going to go to bed now. Goodnight, Harry."

"Oh. Well, goodnight."


End file.
